


The Anatomically Correct Heart

by NobleZeda



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is smitten, Cecil is Mostly Human, Coffee, M/M, Night Vale Community Radio, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pre-Relationship, Science, Secret Crush, on both ends, stupid boys with crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobleZeda/pseuds/NobleZeda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos and the scientists take a few notes on a specimen that appeared in their apartment. The notes absolutely do not get muddled with several thoughts of a certain radio host.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anatomically Correct Heart

"The time is two minutes past six in the evening, twelfth of May, 2013. Carlos here, recording notes on a newly discovered species that seems to have either appeared or grown in the middle of our lab overnight. Present also are Rochelle, Amir, Terry, Joan, and  _Dave_. Dave is great."

"Carlos, stick to science, please," Dave said from next to him. "We don't need to have anything muddle up our notes later." He was looking over the specimen with interest, not daring to get very close.

"Right, right, of course. Sorry. Only facts. Let our notes show that Dave is great. Fact," Carlos murmured to the small microphone in his hand. "Beginning investigation. Terry, what did you find?"

"Specimen appears to be close to four feet tall, not including its limbs stretched to full length," Terry's gender-indeterminate voice said. Terry was examining the specimen closely, curiously, as were the rest of the scientists.

"Specimen appears to have a myriad of tentacles, jet-black, though my eyes are certainly perceiving a hue of purple. They are slick, gangly, and wriggle through the air," Carlos detailed. He was standing a bit farther back than everybody else, so as to make the more obvious descriptions first. "Flowers are pink and circular, their petals supple and odorless. The flowers appear to defy gravity, attached to the main body only by thin, string-like strands."

\---

"Twelve minutes past six, May twelfth 2013, Carlos again. Given that many laws of science do not seem to apply in Night Vale and that we have never seen another specimen quite like this one, we have attempted to get the specimen to speak. After several requests in English, Spanish, French, and - in  _Dave's_ case - _botched_ Latin, the specimen responded in a husky German accent." Carlos spoke very quickly, his excitement at such a thrilling discovery evident in the way that he bounced. His converse shoes were hitting the floor of the lab in a rapid  _patpatpat_ succession, his lab coat flouncing around him as he grinned.

" _...more food..._ "

The raucous rumble carried through the air as though it had originated in a rock slide. "There is no clearly identifiable mouth on the specimen, so we are currently taking this at face value, because it appears to be getting a little antsy, even angry. Dave, the  _other_ cabinet I said!"

\---

"Thirteen minutes past six, aforementioned date, Carlos." His voice was calm again, if not the slightest bit pleased. "Specimen has gone silent again, after a final growling sound as Dave's bare forearm brushed against it while feeding - or, an attempt at feeding, seeing as we still don't know where the mouth is or if the mouth takes corporeal form - the specimen olive oil. Always monitor the sleeves of your lab coat, _Dave_. Hypothesis: the fear response kicked in as a result of the attempted feeding. Evidence: Dave has several scorch marks on his face, no serious injuries, lost half of an eyebrow. The left eyebrow, which was unruly anyway."

"Carlos, if you mention my name  _one more time_ -"

"As Dave approached, previously undetected pores opened on the leaves of the specimen and spat fire. We are now fully aware of these pores." Carlos paused before adding in a soft, quick voice, "Dave screamed."

"I did  _not_ sc-"

"Yes you did, Dave. Don't deny it. This has to be accurate. For science. Admit to the microphone that you screamed." Carlos held out the tiny tape-recorder to Dave, trying to keep his face passive as he held in a laugh. Dave was shaking his head like he couldn't believe he had been to college with this devilish bastard.

\---

"Forty minutes past six, May twelfth, 2013, Carlos. We have determined that the specimen has exclusive control over approximately 95% of the oxygen in the room, and are therefore trying  _very_ hard not to anger it. We also now know that it wanted  _EXTRA VIRGIN_ olive oil,  _Dave_."

Dave glared at Carlos. Carlos knew that he was in for some serious retribution. He brought the microphone just in front of his lips.

"The specimen does not like Dave," Carlos murmured.

Dave growled and bounded across the room. Carlos sprinted in the other direction, dancing out of his reach as he continued, "We are keeping Dave inside to gauge how far we can push the specimen with his presence." He huffed against the microphone loudly as Dave shouted about getting payback for this. "Gas masks will be introduced if we go too far!" Carlos shouted gleefully.

"You've already gone too far, Ca-"

\---

"Forty-seven minutes past six, May twelfth, Carlos. I have been warned by Dave to keep my tongue under control. Well, in _this_ scientist's opinion, Dave is  _autoritario_. Hypothesis: Dave needs to get out more."

"Carlos!"

"Specimen does NOT approve of direct sunlight. It emits a high hiss if all curtains are not shut," Carlos continued dryly. He could see Terry, Amir, Rochelle, and Joan enjoying this immensely, though Rochelle had been incapacitated from further study by a cloud of oxygen-less air forming around her that didn't dissipate until she sat on the farthest armchair.

"Specimen also appears very territorial. I wish we had a secondary lab to fall back on. Hope this pans out well," Joan said amicably.

"Yeah, but where could we  _possibly_ find anywhere to put something dangerous in  _Night Vale_?" Amir asked sardonically, pen poised on paper. He was the youngest of their team, and so spent most of the time taking down a second copy of notes by hand. He was sitting against the wall, looking pensive, almost like he hadn't really been aware of making the joke. Carlos chuckled.

\---

"Seven minutes past seven, twelfth of May, Carlos. At exactly seven o' clock in the evening we put on local radio station for the nightly news. The host of Night Vale's Community Radio station, Cecil Palmer, has a voice that appears to have a lulling effect on the specimen. The tentacles and leaves are, for the most part, relaxed. Definitely more relaxed than we have seen before now. A complete one-eighty from the last time Dave approached. We have since told Dave to stand in the closet. For science."

Carlos was grinning.

"Community Radio host Cecil Palmer is reporting on the occurrence of several of these specimens all through Night Vale. It is possible that the specimen enjoys the attention. It is-"

"Carlos, your phone is vibrating over here," Amir called. Carlos sighed, set down the recorder on the table next to the specimen, and took his phone.

"Thanks," he said. "Terry, can you get over here and see if you can get a sample of the leaves while I take this?" Carlos looked down at his buzzing palm. It was Cecil. The show must have gone to a pre-recorded announcement while Carlos had been concentrating on something else. Carlos's heart gave a frantic, skittering beat. His eyes widened.

"H-hello?" he asked coolly. He felt very exposed in front of his team. Even Dave in the closet would be able to hear him.

"Carlos?" Cecil asked, like he couldn't believe Carlos would actually answer his own phone. Carlos's palms went sweaty and he began pacing between the sofa and the wall.

"Cecil, you're doing your radio show right now. Why are you calling?" Carlos never meant to sound so brusque when he talked to Cecil, but his flustered nature always somehow managed to get the better of him.

"I, uh, I was just wondering if the, the scientific community had any opinions to offer on this fascinating occurrence. I'm very into science," Cecil said. Carlos bit down on the corners of his mouth. Being very into science was something that Carlos considered a high priority for anyone a scientist wanted to date. Not that Carlos wanted to date Cecil. He just needed Cecil's radio to communicate with the people of Night Vale about the horrible disasters that seemed to take place one after the other. Not that he used Cecil only for his radio show. He  _did_ like Cecil, just-

"Hello? Carlos?"

"Right, sorry, no, no, right. I was, um, I was lost in thought," Carlos covered. "We're doing some tests on one of the plants now. Tell your listeners that they seem to have sentience, and not to upset them, because Rochelle nearly passed out from oxygen loss when she tried to take a sample of leaf from the main body. Okay?"

"Neat!" Cecil said, followed by an almost-not but just-barely perceptible hitch of a groan. "Uh, is there, uh, anything else I should tell them, or that you want to tell me?"

_Dinner plans. Dinner plans. Bring up dinner plans, Carlos._

"No."

 _For a scientist, he was an idiot_.

"Oh. Um. Okay, well I'm back on in less than a minute, so I should go. Um, talk to you later. Let me know when you have something that you need me for!" Cecil enthused.

"Okay, Cecil," Carlos said.

"Unless - unless, you want to do an interview by phone?" Cecil suggested hopefully, and, well, Carlos was decidedly  _not_ one for making a fool of himself on public radio because he was too busy having a crush on the host to think properly about science.

"Uh, no, I don't think so. Not today," Carlos told him flatly. Not until he had time to rehearse everything he would need to say.

"Oh - okay. Well, bye."

"Bye."

Carlos hung up first, slightly spaced out. That is, until he saw the recorder dangling in the swirling tentacle of the specimen. There were several grunts and curses as Carlos wrenched it from the tight grasp.

"The specimen grabbed my microphone," Carlos bit out, annoyed. "It appears to have damaged the stop button. I don't know how long this has been recording, so I guess the pressure to solve this thing is on. Dave! Come on out! This is our last microphone until our next 36-pack Amazon shipment comes in, and that's not expected until Friday. Carrying on with handwritten notes because I have no idea when this will run out of charge or how much we'll lose."

As the closet door opened, the specimen began to jerk and thrash. Carlos's eyes widened. "Nope! Nope, sorry, Dave! Back in the closet, please! It's getting angsty!" Carlos was _not_ snickering. "Terry, what does the oxygen meter say?"

Terry looked up, slightly terrified. "Decreasing!"

"Carlos, you're  _kiddi_ -"

"Dave! Closet! Now!"

Carlos practically shut the door on Dave himself. He heard Dave's huff of annoyance, followed by the angry grumble, "I am getting you back  _big time_ for this one." Carlos gave two small taps on the door to indicate he understood.

"Carlos, you'd better get over here," said Joan distractedly. Carlos turned away from the closet and practically vaulted the coach, lab coat flaring dramatically behind him, as he rushed to get back to the specimen.

"What is  _that_?" Carlos asked in disbelief. He squinted at the base of the plant, when the soil met coffee table. Only, now, the dirt was gathering. Of its own accord, the dirt was slipping across the table and organizing itself into a pile. "Specimen appears to be growing a  _pot_. To live in. The specimen, which appears to be a plant, is potting  _itself_."

"Night Vale is  _weird_ ," said Amir simply, scribbling quickly.

Carlos went to his phone to text Cecil. He made sure to put the tape recorder down much farther from the specimen this time. He carried on scribbling his notes absentmindedly as he typed.

_Hi Cecil. Tell your Listeners that the specimen is very possibly trying to make its home in Night Vale. More details soon. Carlos_

"Carlos, I'm not exactly sure writing 'Cecil' in the doodle of an anatomically-correct heart counts as science," Terry speculated from over his shoulder. Carlos gasped his surprise as he saw that he hadn't been taking notes at all. Terry gave him a knowing looking. Carlos began to scribble it out.

"We should turn down the radio," Amir suggested. "I think it's affecting the specimen."

"We need to know how they're affecting  _all_ of Night Vale," Carlos insisted, waving his hands dramatically. "The community radio is the most efficient way to-"

"Now isn't the time for your crush. _Science_ ," Joan reminded Carlos, hands on her hips. "Amir, go shut it off."

"I don't - there's - Cecil isn't - I don't..." Carlos sputtered. 

"Oh, please." Joan rolled her eyes.

"B-b-but, the sound has a - has a calming effect!" Carlos pointed out hurriedly. "On the specimen. Ahem. The specimen. The - uh - the leaves are docile now, and the tentacles are not lashing out when we come near anymore. The radio makes testing easier."

"I don't..." Joan looked uncertain.

"Science," Carlos insisted. Joan caved.

Amir, whose hand was lingering on the dial, raised both eyebrows. "So, leaving it on?" he clarified.

"Yes," said Carlos, pushing up his glasses studiously and standing tall.

Amir dropped his hand and shrugged. "The specimen's clay pot appears about an inch thick," he judged, moving swiftly forward. Carlos always knew there was a reason he kept Amir around.

"Carlos," said Terry, from a desk at the other end of the room. "One woe doth tread upon another's heel. You should come see this."

"What is it?" he asked, scooting around the couch and hurrying over to Terry's microscope. Terry was bent over it ponderously, looking confused and scientifically provoked.

"Take a look at what the specimen's DNA is doing," Terry said softly. Carlos gave Terry one concerned look before twisting the nose toward him and peering down the lens. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but this was  _not_ it.

" _Definitely a real plant_ ," Carlos read aloud. "Why does the underside of the leaf read, 'Definitely a real plant'?"

"I don't know," Terry muttered in frustration. "It didn't read that when I first took the sample. The only conclusion I can come up with is that the DNA is changing itself. Which actually corresponds with the short-term lab analysis I've been running, in that  _no conclusive data_ has determined anything  _remotely_ clear about this specimen."

"A shapeshifter?" Carlos repeated. " _Fascinating_."

"We should try changing the channel," Joan suggested. Carlos bit the inside of his cheek. "Amir, turn it to WZZZ."

Amir's eyes flared, but he stayed silent. He got up, walked across the room, and ticked the knob to the right, then began a short trek back across the room.

"... _ding_... _fourteen...seventy-nine_..."

"Turn it back, Amir, turn it back!" Joan shrieked, shielding herself with her forearms from the thrashing tentacles of the specimen. Amir gave an audible groan, pulled a chair up next to the radio, and calmly switched it back. He fell into the chair with a contemptuous thump as the specimen froze and relaxed. Carlos was  _not_ pleased. He licked his lips to keep from smiling.

"... _And now, the weather_."

Carlos's phone began to ring just as the swaying tentacles of the temporarily-docile specimen began to pick up slightly. Carlos answered, but their swishing through the air began to pick up speed.

"Hello?"

"Carlos! Hi! Um, I just wanted to call you to, uh, to ask about your text. Um, anything new?" Cecil asked. Carlos couldn't deal with this with such important science on the line. He was too distracted.

"Yes, Cecil," Carlos explained hurriedly. "There's something new. I have to be quick because _you_ have to go back to broadcasting. The specimen seems to be a shapeshifter of some sort. I believe it has invaded Night Vale, and without much extrapolation, due to previous experience, they most likely mean the residents of this town harm. Tell your Listeners that if any of these creatures have cropped up in their homes or work places to stay with a friend or relative or loved one. This species is  _dangerous_. Cecil, you need to be careful too, okay?"

"Carlos, what are you  _talking_ about?" Cecil asked, his voice slightly giddy.

"Well, this species seems to be particularly fond of your voice." Carlos looked around the room in moderate panic. "In fact, I'm fairly certain that the only thing keeping my team of scientists alive right now is your dulcet sound waves coming from my phone. I fear that any residents who do not have that luxury could be in serious danger. And you could be as well, because who knows what this species will do to you if you stop broadcasting?"

"Sweet, naive Carlos... There's already one  _in_ my studio, and he's perfectly harmless."

Carlos paused, his breath catching. "W-what?"

"I've been stroking him during my broadcast. He reminds me of you."

"No, Cecil, there's one - in  _there_?  _With_ you?" Carlos's voice was a hiss of dread. He was no longer a calm, collected scientist analyzing data for the good of the town. He was a panicked, frenzied, terrified scientist who needed to save this radio host. For the good of the town. Night Vale. The town.

"Yeah! He's really sweet," Cecil enthused.

"Cecil, as  _soon_ as we figure out a way to get rid of these invaders, I'll call you. Whatever you do,  _don't_ stop broadcasting! I have to go, Joan just collapsed. Keep your show on and make sure everyone in Night Vale tunes in!" Carlos yelled, then threw his phone onto the couch as he leaped the distance to Joan.

"Amir, get an oxygen mask!" Terry ordered.

"Come on, Joan. Let's get you into your room," Carlos shushed. He stuck an arm under Joan's shoulder and lifted her. She weakly protested.

"Science..."

"There's always more science tomorrow, Joan. Make sure you have enough oxygen to see it," Carlos lulled. Amir appeared, his cool persona broken, and began to hastily attach the oxygen mask to Joan's face.

As Carlos walked Joan to her room, he heard the end of the evening's weather, and Cecil began his calm, rich broadcast once more. "Well, Listeners, I just got off the phone with  _Carlos_. He said a lot of things to me today. One of them was about  _my_ voice. He told me, in those rich vocal cords of _his_ , well... something important. To be honest, I get a little lost sometimes. He's _so_... Er, if the plant beings are anywhere that disrupts your daily life,  _avoid_ doing that thing that makes your life a terrible, drab routine, at least for now. The plants are apparently dangerous. And shapeshifting. Or something. As for  _me_. Well. Carlos said that it was  _essential_ that I continue this broadcast. All night if necessary. I am  _happy_ to oblige this radio station's _favorite_ scientist. So, dear Listeners, perhaps you should settle down easy. I am asking, just now, through this microphone, to you Listeners but mostly to Intern Danesh, who is listening, if he could put on another pot of coffee. It could be a  _looooong_ night."

Carlos shut the door on Joan, hands sweaty and lightly shaking, throat dry. It was almost too much sometimes, hearing Cecil's broadcast. The way Cecil spoke to the community. The way Cecil spoke about  _anything_.

"Carlos, I have a hypothesis," Amir said, jarring Carlos from his stupor. He was holding a crow bar. Ultimately, it wasn't even worth mentioning on the spectrum of weird things Carlos had seen over the past 11 months. "Hypothesis: the pot in an exoskeleton." Suddenly, he raised the bar and swung it sideways on the specimen's clay carriage. It shattered brilliantly, splaying brown earth over the tabletop and floors, as well as a sticky, thick gray slime that coated the room. When the dust, viscera, and dirt cleared, Carlos wiped his glasses on the back of his lab coat, stuck them back over his eyes, and peered closer.

The specimen was giving a weak roar, but appeared to be completely vulnerable. At the base of the stem, where the roots of such a large plant should have been, was a beating heart. It was feeble, shuddering, and Amir struck it once more. The specimen gave a wheezy, high-pitched sigh, and deflated, as though it was a popped balloon. Just before it came to a complete rest, it shimmered lightly, and evaporated in a poof of gold glitter, which stuck to the slime and surfaces covering the room. Carlos spat to clear his lips.

"Conclusion: wait for the specimen to grow its exoskeleton. Shatter the exoskeleton." Amir looked pleased with himself, underneath the excess of the invader. He sniffed, made a face. "Dibs on first shower."

Carlos groaned. "That's alright. And anyway, _Dave_ can clean it up. Thanks for all the _help_ , Dave!"

Dave emerged from the closet. Carlos was surprised to see that he didn't look perturbed in the slightest. He actually looked... inspired. Carlos was struck with a sudden fear.

 

\+ + +

 

The Moonlight All-Nite Diner served Carlos two coffees to go, with only minor shrieking and hair-grooming. Wherever Carlos walked, he heard the drifting of Cecil's deep voice throughout the streets of Night Vale, reporting the news as it came in, just as content to inform the public of crisis as he would be to stir his cup of coffee.

Cecil was in a long, slowly-delivered, passionate speech about defending Night Vale, defending their home town from anyone who would seek to do them more-than-moderate harm. He ended it with encouraging the members of the community to take any weapon they could find and hack at the exoskeleton until it gave in, and destroy the source of the infestation, one by one. It was... riveting.

Only in his car did Carlos have small silences in which to think, and the adrenaline of a thrilling scientific discovery to motivate him to be so bold.

As he pulled into the radio station's parking lot, Carlos clutched tightly to his cups of coffee. They were his weapons as he braved the dark terrain of the unknown. Two hawk screeches overhead told him that it was safe to exit his car, and he did so. Slowly. Readily.

The station was mostly empty. A woman with a beehive instead of a hairdo beckoned him farther into the station. Carlos nodded graciously, throat too dry to talk, and walked until he found himself outside Cecil's studio. He knocked twice, entered, and found the room empty but for Cecil in the booth. Cecil stopped mid-word, sat up straight, and beamed at the surprise. Carlos gave a nervous grin, his eyebrows raised. Too late, he felt the crusty remain of a missed patch of slime at his hairline.

He couldn't hear what Cecil was saying through the thick pane of glass, but as he sidestepped the customary owl's nest, Cecil beckoned him farther into the studio. Carlos obliged.

As he opened the door, the deep bass flooded his ear. "...our second scientist of the evening. What a surprise. Carlos! With two cups of coffee. Wow! Come say hi, Carlos. Oh, Listeners, Carlos is shaking his head. I'm sorry to disappoint, but it seems that he is only here to listen. With _coffee_. Oh, Carlos, I couldn't be more grateful."

Carlos gave Cecil a sheepish smile, then frowned as he realized that an identical replica of the specimen that had been sitting on his apartment's best table was drooped languidly across Cecil's desk, obstructing several blinking buttons and dials. 

"And, Carlos is looking at the plant. Listeners, he is leaning down and picking up the canoe paddle that doubles as a weapon and so is standard-issued to every place of business. He is stalking slowly toward the plant that has been inhabiting my broadcast space, and purring  _quite_ loudly, actually. I was almost worried when I first arrived that it would interfere with the show, but everything was just- oh!"

As Cecil wiped his mouth of dirt, slime, and glitter, he puffed out, "Fine."

"Sorry," Carlos muttered. "I don't know what came over me." He set down the paddle and despaired at having to take  _another_ shower before he slept that night. Cecil was giggling.

"Oh, that was  _fun_! Listeners, I was worried, at first, I admit it. When I instructed you all to heartlessly kill these interlopers, I do admit that I was wary - though never wary enough that my faith in Carlos wavered - that we were causing harm on a possibly-friendly group of invaders intent on killing us all. But, dear Listeners, I have been proven...  _a stick in the mud_. Go out there in squads of three and up, and  _have fun_. Take whichever weapon you prefer from the vast plethora of weapons offered in our beautiful little town, standardly used as a weapon or not, and take some stress off! In the meantime, I have a surprise for all of you out there.

"Dave the Scientist sent in this tape of the  _actual_ scientific process in which today's interlopers were discovered."

Carlos's eyes widened as his own voice began to drift out at him. He was quite sure that some things had been said that were  _not_ fit for a certain radio host to hear. He was also quite sure that this was just the beginning of his prank war with Dave.


End file.
